The Blushing Detective
by CowMow
Summary: John loves to see Sherlock blush. What better day that Valentine's Day to make Sherlock blush properly? Fluff and Smut and Cuddles. Written for Banditbrineshrimp for the JohnLockChallenge.


**The Blushing Detective**

By CowMow

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Written for the JohnlockChallenge, for banditbrineshrimp. Happy Valentine's Day!

...

John Watson was not a guy known for his excellent brilliance. He wasn't known for his clever ideas, his helpful input in cases, his perceptiveness when it came to pointing out the killer. What he was known for were his awful puns, his jumpers and his tea and his ability to go from a kind, reassuring doctor to BAMF soldier in a heartbeat, but most of all he prided himself on his ability to make Sherlock Holmes blush.

Now, if John had to admit one truth about that, it would be that it wasn't particularly hard to make Sherlock flustered, considering how Sherlock had never truly grown used to having someone tease him. Sometimes, under the right circumstances, just a naughty wink from John could make the detective go from vampire-pale to beet-root flushed in seconds. Yes, it truly is as amusing as it sounds.

For John, there were few things better than seeing a crimson flush slowly creep over those sharp, proud cheekbones. One of those things was to see the confidence in those brilliant grey/green/blue eyes waver just a bit to allow a softer creature to shine through. It felt rewarding to John to see how Sherlock's pale skin turned a beautiful rosy with just a look or a word, a simply remark, a loving smile. Often, a lingering touch to the man's wrist in public was enough to set it all off.

It was easy, _so_ easy. Maybe a bit too easy for a seductive man like John, but the soldier in him had soon found out it was a fun game to see what made his lover turn a delightful pink. Sherlock, of course, knew this, and tried to anticipate when John Watson's terror would strike again, but John was nothing if not fond of surprises.

Which was why the doctor was expecting nothing less than a nice warm blush later on when he entered the bedroom, simply dressed in his dressing gown – nothing underneath as he hoped the detective would figure out soon – carrying a tray with breakfast. Normally Sherlock would never allow John to do anything the Great Detective considered couple-y, even though they had been together for over a year.

Seeing that today was February 14th, John had made plans to make this day memorable. Last year they had to skip Valentine's Day completely because Sherlock had declared it being a day merely called into existence for monetary reasons which resulted in an over-commercialised concept invented to make lousy lovers buy off their guilt, and had then proceeded to list 243 ways of how John could show his love other than through chocolate, flowers or dinner. Touching as it sounds, John really didn't feel like bringing a heart home from the morgue, neither did he consider it a comforting idea to be a test subject for Sherlock to show his trust. He shivered at the mere idea of it.

So yes, last year's Valentine's Day may have been a disaster, but John was committed to changing that. Breakfast would do the trick, surely. Despite popular belief, Sherlock actually ate lots if he felt inclined – which mostly meant he only ate voluntarily if he didn't have to cook it himself, if it was during a case, and if he was sulking. He had once devoured a whole package of chocolate digestives after Mycroft had tricked him into accepting a case Sherlock didn't want.

With a fond smile, he looked at his lover's lanky form, sprawled out over the bed. John knew he was wearing his white boxers, but with the sheets draped over his bum just like that it was highly suggestive. He set the tray on the nightstand and crawled onto the bed, gently rolling Sherlock over and stealing a kiss. "Wakey, wakey, sleeping beauty," he whispered, stroking Sherlock's face before kissing him again.

The detective stirred, opening one eye. "You're being overly affectionate," he mumbled sleepily, mind slowly buzzing back into awareness. "What did you do this time? Threw the experiment in the fridge again?"

John just chuckled at how slurred his lover sounded, pressing small kisses to Sherlock's lips before the detective returned them, wrapping an arm around John's shoulders.

"Maybe," John teased, before he pulled away completely.

Sherlock pouted and opened his eyes, peering at John. "Why are you stopping?" he whined, pushing himself up on his elbows. "I was just getting warmed up!"

"Well, cool down then," John shot back playfully, lifting the tray and placing it on the bed next to Sherlock. "Breakfast. Eat up, please."

Sherlock's forehead wrinkled in a frown, and he eyed the tray, which held a cooked breakfast, orange juice, tea, and a small vase with a single red rose. "Oh," Sherlock said slowly after a while, realising that he maybe had missed an anniversary or some other significant day. "That's… nice." He bit his plump bottom lip and glanced up at John. "Thank you."

John smirked and lay on his side, head propped up on one hand. "Not a problem, Sherlock. Now, eat up. It's getting cold."

After a small moment of hesitation, Sherlock sat up properly, grabbing his fork, and started to eat. He was hesitant at first, but then he realised he really liked it, and he ate a bit more and faster. "Why am I eating breakfast in bed now?" Sherlock asked after a while of eating.

"Valentine's Day," John chuckled and pricked some toast and bacon to his fork, holding it to Sherlock's lips. "One bite for John…?"

Sherlock's eyes widened a bit, and with pure delight John watched the much-anticipated flush start high on the man's cheekbones. The detective parted his plump lips and ate the offered food, chewing slowly. His cheeks were now an adorable pink, and John smirked with pure satisfaction at his lovely boyfriend.

When Sherlock caught the look on his lover's face, his blush deepened even more, and he bit down on his bottom lip. He realised he was now blushing, the look on John's face was telling enough. "You did all this on purpose," he mumbled, looking away, hoping the colour would fade.

John chuckled and nodded. He put his fork down and reached out to cup Sherlock's cheek, turning his head back so they could kiss. He softly pressed a kiss to Sherlock's mouth and slowly pulled away afterwards. "Yes. Happy Valentine's Day, Sherlock."

Sherlock sighed softly and dropped his fork, curling his arm around John's waist to pull him in a bit closer. The kiss soon grew from a chaste friction of lips to something more passionate, where Sherlock eagerly parted his lips for John and where John greedily took what was on offer.

John rolled them over so he lay on top, pushing himself up on one elbow, and stroking Sherlock's smooth, flat stomach with his other hand as they kissed. They only stopped when John's pants were too tight.

When John pulled away, he looked down into dilated grey eyes, flushed cheeks and bright eyes. It never stopped to amaze him how Sherlock could be this beautiful, and that he was the only one who got to see him like this. He bit his own bottom lip and fell to his side, his hand resting on Sherlock's stomach. "Are you awake now?"

Sherlock grinned and nodded, pushing himself up on his elbows. "Yes, I think one could say that." He nodded at his groin, where the sheet was pushed up a bit.

John chuckled and sat up properly to remove the breakfast tray from the bed, and grabbing the bottle of lube and a condom from the bedside table.

He held both up, and tilted his head. "So… You may choose, Sherlock. How do you want it?"

Sherlock bit his lip and sat up properly. "I want you, John. I don't care how." He pulled the sheet a bit better over his lower body, but John would have none of that.

"Ah-ah," John warned playfully, crawling over to him and pulling the blankets away. "None of that, Sherlock. You never have to cover yourself up for me." He leaned in and pressed a kiss over Sherlock's heart, delighting in the breathless gasp that followed.

Sherlock was always wonderfully responsive, and when John kissed him again and again, from his chest to his stomach to his hip and thigh, the other man kept gasping and even moaning softly.

And when John looked up, he noticed it wasn't just Sherlock's cheeks that were flushed now, his chest began to turn a bit rosy too, and it turned John on more than he dared to admit. It wasn't supposed to be a turn-on, normally, perhaps, but with a man like Sherlock, who never showed any emotion or any of his deeper feelings, a blush was the most rewarding show of sentiment and emotion John wanted. It meant that Sherlock felt safe enough to let his guards down, to let John in, not just in his body but also his mind. And wasn't that the greatest gift of all?

So John did everything he could think of that would drive Sherlock wild with lust and want, and when he finally sank deep inside his lover, it was deserved, and both men stared at the other before Sherlock's eyes fluttered shut and he moaned. His cheeks instantly darkened at the obscene sound, but John rewarded him with a positively filthy kiss, wet and with tongue and teeth.

John grunted softly when he began to move his hips, pulling out and pushing back in. The sounds that Sherlock made were soft, little mewls of pleasure, silent gasps of his lover's name, going straight to John's very core.

Sherlock's fingertips dug deep into John's strong shoulders, his long legs wrapped around John's thighs as they moved together as one. John's lips and hands were everywhere on Sherlock's milky skin, before his lips settled against Sherlock's neck, his hand wrapped around Sherlock's cock to stroke him and make him lose control.

John's sense of sensation was heightened; he felt Sherlock's curls tickle his face, heard the low baritone moans reverberating in the air, felt Sherlock's heartbeat thrumming through his entire body, completely tuned to his lover's. Nothing was more perfect than this, joined together as closely as one could.

He gave thrust after thrust, shivering from the sensations while Sherlock allowed everything to wash over him as he came between their bellies.

John toppled over the edge after him when Sherlock clenched down on him, gasping into Sherlock's skin as he filled the condom. Out of breath, he collapsed on top of Sherlock, who caught his weight with a grunt.

"You're… you're getting old," Sherlock grimaced, but he wrapped his arms around his lover anyways, hugging him close. He always felt cuddly afterwards, as if he needed a safe haven to build up his armour again.

"Let's hope so," John muttered, too sated and too tired to move right now. So they lay there for a few deliciously long minutes, before John moved. He pulled out of Sherlock and got rid of the condom, before he snuggled up against his lover. "So, how was that?"

Sherlock was silent, and John thought Sherlock had fallen asleep until that deep baritone rumbled, "A Happy Valentine's Day indeed..."

John looked up at Sherlock, grinning widely. "Is it now?"

Sherlock hummed. "Clearly. I enjoyed myself."

"Yes, so I remember _noticing_." John chuckled and rolled off the bed to get himself cleaned up after he pressed a kiss to Sherlock's lips.

Frowning, Sherlock pushed himself up, staring at John. "Where are you going?"

"To the bathroom." John turned around, showing off his naked, strong body a little.

"Yes? And afterwards? Do you have to work?"

John looked very serious when he nodded. "Yes, I have got some very important things to do."

"A task?" Sherlock repeated, not really understanding.

"Well, I say task…" John gave Sherlock a positively predatory, seductive look-over and then disappeared into the bathroom.

And Sherlock? Sherlock blushed.


End file.
